Well and Truly Broken
by CreepingMuse
Summary: Damon wanted to take her pain away. Stefan remembered what he truly wanted. Elena found a way to survive. Fic is abandoned, apologies.
1. Chapter 1

_Set at the end of "The Return," the story diverges as Damon makes a fateful choice to calm Elena's fear and terror at Jeremy's death. All characters belong to their respective copyright holders._

"I love Stefan! It's always going to be Stefan."

Damon thought he couldn't possibly bear any more pain after his rendezvous with Katherine. There just didn't seem to be any more room for it inside of him: it invaded every crevice, every thought ached with the agony of Katherine's utter apathy.

No, Damon was positive that there was no more room for pain. Until that face—that same _face—_told him again that it was always Stefan, never him. It had been Stefan 150 years ago, it was Stefan today, and it would be Stefan a thousand years from now.

Guess there was more room after all.

He dropped her hand, lip curling in disgust as he gazed down at the little thing. Here he was, wrong twice in one day. Lessons learned: there's always room for more pain, and Elena was _exactly _like Katherine after all.

Vaguely, Damon heard Jeremy shuffle into the room, but it was barely worth his notice. Poor little stoner boy. The kid knew something about pain, too. His parents, Vicki, Anna…

"Nothing, Jeremy. It's okay, just go back to bed," Elena said.

Damon jerked his head up. How could she lie to her brother like that? It wasn't okay. It never would be again-not for Jeremy and not for him. It never could be. Just one more lie. He couldn't let this one stand.

"No it's not okay, Elena." He turned his eyes towards Jeremy. Damon could practically see the pain oozing out of the boy, a writhing mass of misery. But he could help. He could help. "He wants to be a vampire."

In a blink of an eye, his hand was around Jeremy's throat. He could feel the blood pulsing sluggishly beneath his palm, still slow and weak. Anna's blood had healed him, but not entirely. Was there any of her blood still in his veins? Did it matter?

"You want to shut out the pain? It's easy. It's the easiest thing in the world—the part of you that cares just goes away." Lie. It never went away, not really. It was always lurking there just out of reach, a gushing wound with a bandage placed daintily on top.

"All you have to do is flip the switch, and _snap." _Such a small movement and Jeremy crumpled to the floor. The pain was gone. One way or another, Jeremy's pain would be gone.

Until he heard Elena's anguished sob. The pain wasn't gone—it redoubled as a stab of something Damon vaguely remembered as guilt struck him. He watched Elena's face crumple, saw the tears come. He'd only shifted the pain from Jeremy to Elena (Katherine? No, Elena). It was still there.

He had to make it stop. She wouldn't let him do it the way he longed to, to take her in his arms and hold her and wipe every tear away. Those judgy eyes told him that she saw only a monster.

But he had to make it stop. Before he'd even made a conscious decision, one hand snaked out to that necklace around her throat, that gift of _his_ love. A flick of the wrist tore it away and sent it flying across the room.

He ducked his head to look into her eyes and reached for that dark well of strength within him, the part that could make the pain stop.

"Elena, stop crying. Please. Everything's going to be all right."

The tears ceased immediately, leaving behind only traces on her cheeks, her eyes still locked on his. Her lips barely moved as she echoed his words. "Everything's going to be all right."


	2. Chapter 2

Damon had never seen Elena look so peaceful. And he had some experience watching her sleep, after all. Normally, she tossed and turned, her eyelids fluttered, she cried out at nightmares. But not now. She lay curled on her side, chest rising and falling peacefully, one hand pillowing her smooth cheek.

Nothing like compulsion for a good night's rest.

It had all gotten out of control so fast. He'd just wanted her to stop crying, to stop hurting—was that so wrong? But once he'd compelled her, Damon couldn't stop. It wasn't as if he could just leave her there, unnaturally calm with her brother's corpse.

"You're going to come with me. Everything's going to be okay," he'd reassured her, grasping both her hands.

"Of course it will be. Where are we going?" Elena's eyes were focused only on him, not even glancing at Jeremy's crumpled body, his head twisted brutally to the side.

Damon didn't have an answer as he led her from the house and into the night. He threw some of Alaric's vampire hunting gear into the backseat and settled the compliant girl into the passenger's seat. They'd find Jeremy soon—either dead or undead—and they'd come for him. And he wasn't sure what would happen then.

So he drove without direction or purpose, the dark Virginia countryside sliding past. Damon spent as much time watching Elena as he did the road, hands clenched white on the wheel. There was a terrible blankness to her face. Sure, there was no pain or grief or fear, but there was no fire or laughter or light either. Not even that spark of anger she seemed to save just for him.

What the hell had he done?

Damon blinked out of the past as the microwave in the dingy hotel room chimed. He started to reach for Elena to stroke her cheek, weave his fingers into her hair, but stopped himself, clenching a fist. No.

He crossed the room to the beeping appliance, removing the steaming Styrofoam cup before returning to Elena's bedside. The scent of its contents made his stomach roil and his throat burn, but it didn't matter. This was the only way.

"Rise and shine, Elena."

Her brow furrowed for a moment, struggling to remain in her sweetly mindless sleep, but soon brown eyes fluttered open. "Damon? Where are we?" There was no hint of fear at waking in a strange place with the evil Salvatore brother, only a mild sense of confusion.

"Somewhere in North Carolina. But that doesn't matter. Look at me." Damon set the cup on the bedside table, reaching for her, one hand resting gently on either side of her face. He was going to regret this. Already did.

Catching her eyes with his, he held her there for a moment, some part of him relishing the complete control he held. All the things he could do—make her want him, make her fuck him, make her love him. They could run away and never look back.

No. Not like this. She wasn't a puppet, not like the rest. This wasn't Caroline, it was Elena. It wouldn't be this way with her.

"In a moment, you're going to take that cup on the nightstand and drink it all. And as soon as you swallow that last drop, you're going to remember everything that happened tonight. And you're going to feel—you're going to feel about it however the hell you want to feel." Swallowing hard, he broke contact and helped pull her into a sitting position, pressing the cup into her hands.

Elena took it, bringing it towards her mouth. She paused, looking over at Damon. "But this is—"

"I know. Bottoms up."

Without further comment, she drained the entire cup of pure Vervain extract.

The cup fell from suddenly nerveless fingers, and the screaming began.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks so much for those who reviewed—it means a lot! A little longer chapter to chew on this time. Please enjoy._

"You killed him! You killed Jeremy!"

Those little fists of hers were sharp as they beat against his chest, but they weren't Damon's primary concern. She was. And something was…off. He'd expected her to be upset, and she was, but not _as _upset as he'd expected. Not like she'd just lost a brother. That pain, that initial _pain_ he'd wanted to take away so badly, was gone. Now she just seemed pissed off. But he'd removed all the compulsion—she was completely under her own influence now. What was going on?

"Yes. I did." He let her continue hitting him, letting her fight herself out as he tried to puzzle out the mystery. "I was drunk, and…I snapped. And I killed him." He swallowed hard, trying to catch a clear glimpse of her eyes through all that flying hair. "He could come back, though. As a vampire. Some of Anna's blood could still have been in his system, maybe. But it's not likely."

She stopped her frantic battering and simply glared at him. Ah, there was a look he knew well. Elena whirled away from him, fishing for her cell phone in her pocket. He'd let her keep it. When she was compelled she hadn't thought to use it, and now it didn't matter what she did. She selected a number and held the phone to her ear. Damon's superior listening allowed him to eavesdrop as the phone rang and rang.

"Hey." Damon's eyebrows flew up in surprise as a familiar voice answered. Jeremy? So there'd been enough of Anna's blood in his system after all. Fuck. A vamped emo boy was going to be a barrel of laughs to get through the first parts of his transition. Probably worse than Vicki, and they all knew how _that _had turned out. Damon sat heavily on the edge of the bed, resting his head in his hands. Elena was never going to forgive him for this. Never.

"Jer, you're okay? You're not…you're not…" Elena was hesitant, but Damon lifted his head slightly. She knew the answer to her question already. What did she know?

"Yeah, I'm okay. Stefan's here. But he killed me, Elena. Damon killed me. If I hadn't been wearing John's ring…"

The ring! John Gilbert's irritating, infuriating, ugly-ass ring had saved the day. _That's _why Elena had taken the…unpleasantness so well, all things considered. She must've seen the ring before they left. Relief flooded through him. Maybe this was fixable, after all.

"I know, Jeremy. Listen, I'll be home soon. Tell Stefan not to worry. Get some rest, and don't take that ring off." Elena cast a glare over her shoulder at Damon. "It's not safe for you."

"Be careful, Elena." The girl ended the call, staring at the phone for a long moment before shoving it back into her pocket. She hung her head, still not turning to face Damon. She stood near the bureau, the mirror bouncing her reflection to the rest of the room, though her features were concealed by her long hair.

"You didn't know. You didn't know he was wearing the ring when you _broke my brother's neck_." The accusation in her voice was crushing, but he couldn't hide from her, couldn't lie from her and tap dance around the truth of what he'd done.

"No. I wanted…I was fucked up, Elena." He shook his head, rising from the bed and approaching her warily, as if _she _were the dangerous one. "Katherine said some things I didn't want to hear." Understatement of the millennium. "And then what happened with you, and you sounded and looked just like her, and then you _lied _to him, Elena. You said everything was going to be okay. But I knew it wasn't going to be. Not for him."

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, then released and spread the fingers wide. "I wanted him to stop hurting. To give him what he wanted. And that was wrong and that was stupid, but that's what I was trying to do. Same thing I was trying to do when I compelled you." Damon started to reach out to her, to rest one hand on her shoulder, but halted the gesture, his arm falling back to his side. "I'm sorry, Elena. For whatever that's worth." 

For an eternity, she stood there, face hidden in shadows. Slowly, she raised her face, eyes meeting his in the mirror. "I want to see my brother. I want to go home." And that was it. She didn't scream, didn't yell, didn't tell him to go to hell and never see her again. She just wanted to go home. How could he deny her that?

He nodded once. "Let's go." Damon stepped around her, retrieving the empty Vervain syringe from next to the microwave. He'd been lucky twice in one night—Jeremy's ring had saved the boy, and Alaric's Vervain darts meant that he could protect Elena. Even if he was only protecting her from himself.

They drove the four hours home in silence, ghostly radio stations flickering in and out of service as they traversed rural North Carolina and Virginia. Mostly gospel and country, whispering like ghosts as they passed from one small town to the next.

Stefan was waiting when they pulled up in front of the Gilbert house. Damon's hands clenched on the wheel. Even after everything that happened, he didn't want to let her go. Not back to Stefan. Not when she might never forgive him for what he'd done. She started to leave the car, but he grabbed her wrist. "Elena. Listen to me."

"No, Damon. I've done enough _listening_ to you for one night." He winced. Harsh but true. She tried to pull free, but he held her firmly in his grasp.

"Yeah, you have. I shouldn't have compelled you. But Elena, what I said last night is still true, and you know it." He leaned close, eyes piercing hers, not with the power of compulsion, but with clear and true conviction. "Don't lie to yourself, Elena. We have something."

Those soft brown eyes gazed up at him, and hope flared within him. But the next instant, her eyes had turned to steel.

"No, Damon. We might have _had_ a friendship, but you killed it last night. You just wanted to 'take the pain away'? That's not your call to make—not for Jeremy and not for me. We get to make our own decisions about the pain we carry. Not you. Now kill me, compel me, or let me go."

Stunned, he dropped her wrist. He was vaguely aware of her leaving the car, of her falling into Stefan's arms. But all he could focus on was the searing rush of pain that knotted his stomach, clutched at his chest. For the past few months, he'd been trying to be better. Trying to be human, trying to be decent, trying to feel. All because of this one absurd, sweet, brave, stupid little brat. And now? He'd failed in his grand humanity experiment. It was all over. She was gone.

It took only a moment to make the pain vanish. It all disappeared, locked away behind a secret door somewhere deep inside. Damon turned the radio up as he pulled out of the driveway, a smirk crossing his lips.

Ah. Much better.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey everyone, Damon decided to grab the wheel of this fic and veer it into decidedly adult territory, so I've upped the rating to M. For those of you waiting for more Damon/Elena goodness, I assure you it's coming, but we have to get through the dark night first. Enjoy!_

Damon buried his head between the co-ed's legs, puncturing her femoral artery with one neat prick of his fangs. No need to make a mess of those perfect thighs, now was there? He clamped his lips around the gushing wound and drank. One hand pushed the brunette's cotton panties aside, two fingers plunging into her warm, yielding sex. A smile curved his lips at her mingled cries of pleasure and pain.

This was more like it. Why had he wasted all those months on bagged blood? Cold, stale, nasty stuff. As he drank directly from this warm, pleasant, throbbing source, fingers moving in time with the girl's heart, he vowed never to go back. It had only been a day since he'd turned the switch, but he already felt better than he had in ages. It was so simple this way, indulging in his every whim without pausing to consider its greater effects on his soul or on Elena Gilbert. Hunt. Fuck. Feed. Live.

Yes, his binge of the past day had been almost perfect. Damon would have liked to have been able to go full tilt, to leave a string of broken bodies in his wake as he had when he'd first gotten to Mystic Falls. The desire was there, the craving for that moment of utter surrender when the blood stopped and the heart fell silent and they lay in his arms like dolls. But prudence kept him from the kill. He wanted to stay in Mystic Falls, at least for a little while, and having to dispose of bodies and compose cover stories was so tedious. So for now, they got to live.

Damon would have liked to enjoy his meal to the fullest extent, but his phone wouldn't stop vibrating. For the past half hour, it had buzzed persistently in his pocket. He'd made a valiant effort to ignore it, but as the irritating device informed him of yet another text, he yielded and fished the thing out of his pocket with his free hand, turning his attention away enough to glance at the display and select the most recent missive from Stefan.

_Caroline's been turned. Where are you?_

Well. That at least merited a pause in festivities. He took one last draught from the girl's leg before sitting up, withdrawing his fingers. She gave an indignant growl. "Hey! I'm not done yet!"

"Yes you are." Damon wiped his hand on her hiked skirt and caught her eyes, holding her in thrall. "You're finished right…now." He smirked as she suddenly quaked and she cried out beneath him. Not nearly as fun as the old fashioned way, but he was pressed for time. One finger traced her cheek. "You've never been here, never seen me. You were drunk—something cheap and nasty, no doubt- and fell on a broken bottle and cut your leg. Now put a bandage on it and get out."

He rose and reclaimed his discarded shirt, shrugging into it as he considered the situation. So Katherine had killed Caroline. It was inevitable that Caroline would die, the poor stupid puppy. But he hadn't seen it ending like this.

A perusal of all the messages caught him up on the situation: Stefan and Sheriff Forbes had been texting and calling him frantically, begging him to deal with the "vampire situation" at school. He took a moment to savor the delicious irony of Lizzie Forbes' daughter as a vampire. How it would break her heart when she knew, when she realized she'd have to kill her own daughter. Positively Shakespearean.

But Damon had no intention of rushing over to the high school to witness the little tragedy. There was only one person who would have turned Caroline: Katherine. She must've been looking for a distraction. So while everyone else was dealing with Vampire Barbie (now with real retractable fangs!), Damon would see what that bitch's end game was.

Damon fastened the last button on his shirt and sauntered over to a bureau, pulling out one of his neatly whittled stakes, testing its point with a finger with grim satisfaction. He owed Katherine a little pain.


	5. Chapter 5

_As always, the characters belong to their respective copyright holders, I'm just having fun with them._

"So I asked myself, if I were a sociopathic bitch with a secret agenda who'd just unleashed a toy vampire on the high school, where would I be?" Katherine jerked upright in surprise as Damon slipped in through the window. "Then I realized exactly _who _you were trying to distract, and realized there was only one place you could be."

Damon surveyed Elena's room. It was a mess: every drawer was pulled from the bureau, the mattress overthrown, even that hideous horse drawing had been torn from the wall. "Thorough job, Katherine. Whatcha lookin' for?"

Truth be told, it had taken him a while to find her. There were a few false starts—a trip by the tomb, the Grill, and even a thorough search of the boarding house had all turned up nothing. Elena's house was a bit of a last ditch effort, but it had paid off. He kept his sights on Katherine, never straying to the door of the room, to the wall where he'd pinned Jeremy and…Not now. He had to focus.

"Damon. I thought for sure it'd be Stefan who figured it out. But he must be too busy protecting Elena. But why aren't _you_ doing that?" Katherine oozed over to him, all charm and feminine wiles, just like old times. She rested a hand on his chest, those brown eyes laughing up at him. "After all, I thought it was true love between you two. Thought she was going to save you, see the man in the monster and mend your sad, broken little heart." She stuck out her lower lip in a pretty pout. "Or did she choose Stefan, too?"

"That was transparent, even for you. I thought you might've learned some new tricks in 145 years. Too bad." He clucked his tongue. "I realized I have more interesting things to do with eternity than moon after a 17 year-old-girl." Damon forced his face to soften, stepping towards her. "About what you said last night…"

"This is really getting pathetic, Damon." Katherine resumed riffling through Elena's jewelry box, methodically ripping open the lining. "So did you come here to see what I was up to, or just for a pity fuck?" She gave him that crooked little grin. "Can't help you with the first bit, but as for the other part…" Katherine dropped the box and turned back towards him. "I could be persuaded."

Damon didn't trust himself to speak. After all these years, this was what it came down to? A pity fuck? No. Not like this. Damon sped over to Katherine, wrapping one hand firmly around her waist, thrusting his hard body against her soft yielding one, the other hand crushing her head to him as he met her lips in a fierce kiss—lips grinding, teeth clashing, tongues battling for dominance.

Katherine broke away with a little gasp. "Where did _this_ Damon come from? He's so much more interesting than the whipped little puppy."

He didn't allow her another word, forcing her back against him for another go, both hands coming to rest on either side of her face as their lips met brutally once more.

_Snap._

It was more difficult than it had been with Jeremy, but only just. The effort required was still so simple: one quick, hard pull and down she fell, like a puppet with broken strings. Part of him wanted to savor the kill, to let her heal and awaken and cut those strings over and over and over again until she begged to be allowed to slip into death.

No. That was the impulse of a Damon who cared, of a Damon who wanted to see her suffer. And he no longer cared about any of that. No time to stop to contemplate, to glory in the kill or wallow in the pain of the past. There was only one thing left to do.

In one fluid motion, Damon pulled the stake from his waistband and knelt at Katherine's side. Already he could see her healing, see bones and tendons moving under the surface of her skin. He reared back and thrust the stake down with all his might, penetrating cloth and skin, then shattering the solid armor of her sternum until the stake stopped with an undignified _squish_ in the center of Katherine's heart.

The change was immediate. Olive skin acquired a corpse's pallor, lustrous hair become like straw, flesh sunk onto bones. And through it all, Damon felt nothing. Only a cold sense of satisfaction at a job well done and a nagging regret at not knowing what she had been searching for.

The empty joy was replaced when he turned towards the door to find Elena and Stefan gaping down at him.


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks so much for the reviews! They mean a lot. I know some of you may be surprised that Katherine's gone, but c'mon—the show would've killed her a long time ago, but she suits their dramatic ends. But not mine. So! Let's get back to it. All characters belong to their respective copyright holders._

Well. This was awkward. Just what _was _the etiquette for when your brother and his girlfriend found you crouching over the body of your mutual lover? Damon watched the pair closely, one hand resting almost protectively on Katherine's hair. Elena was visibly shocked at seeing her evil mirror image lying on the floor in a state of advanced decomposition. Not surprising. But Stefan was another story.

Stefan wasn't emotive in the best of times, but now, his entire face was a blank mask. No furrowed brow, no gnashing of teeth or rending of garments. Nothing. How very interesting. Damon would've expected _some_ reaction from his brother. Maybe he really had convinced himself that Katherine had compelled him, that their love was an insidious lie. Bullshit, of course, but if that's what helped Stefan sleep at night, that was his business.

Damon rose. "Sorry about the mess, Elena. Katherine decided to do some redecorating before I got here." He tried to keep his focus on Stefan and Elena, but his eyes kept wandering back to the cold body on the floor. The great Katherine Pierce was just fragile flesh and bones.

"It…it was self defense, right? You had to kill her, didn't you?" Elena's voice wavered, startling Damon. There were those brown eyes again, so full of hope. She still wanted to believe the best of him.

He laughed, a low, unpleasant sound. "No. She didn't attack me, she was kissing me. I killed her because she kept my balls in her pocket for a century and a half and I wanted them back." A grim smile quirked his lips. "And because she deserved to die. She _needed_ to die. After what she did to us?" He tried to catch Stefan's eyes, but his brother's attention was focused on the corpse. "After what he did to _you_, Elena—she tried to kill John, did kill Caroline. So rather than having this turn into a long, drawn out killing spree, I did what needed to be done."

Every word was true. Damon was finding that without emotions, there was less and less need to lie. After all, when no one's reaction could hurt you, why protect them from uncomfortable truths? Katherine had died because she was dangerous. But she'd also died because she'd thrown his love in his face, turned the meaning of his life into a laughingstock. That, too, deserved death.

Damon's eyes flicked to Stefan, who was still staring at the body in silence. "Stef. We need to get her out of here. Wouldn't want Aunt Jenna to find her, now would we? Where'd you bury Caroline? We can dump her in the same place."

"No." Stefan finally spoke and met his brother's eyes. Damon sucked in a sharp breath of surprise. Stefan's eyes were full of loss. He really had loved her after all. "I'll take care of her." Stefan swallowed hard. "The body, I mean. I'll take care of the body."

"Stefan, no. This is Damon's mess, let him clean it up. You've dealt with enough for one night. And Caroline's _not_ dead, no thanks to you." Elena glared up at Damon with the self righteousness that only a 17-year-old can muster.

"I think she's right, little brother." Damon moved between Stefan and the shell that had been Katherine. "I don't think you should—"

"I don't care what you think, Damon," Stefan said, sidestepping Damon to kneel beside the body. The tips of his fingers brushed Katherine's forehead, fingers leaving impressions on the dead flesh as he slid his hand down to close her staring brown eyes. An eternity passed. Finally, Stefan scooped the weightless body into his arms, turning to Elena. "I have to take care of this. I hope you can understand that. But I have to do this last thing for her." He turned to the door with his gruesome cargo.

"Stefan, let me come with you. Let's bury her, once and for all. Together." Damon's hand clutched his brother's shoulder. He couldn't let Stefan do this alone. Stefan had loved her? This deeply, this much?

"You've done enough," Stefan said, and disappeared with a gust of wind.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks for reading and reviewing, everyone! I hope you're enjoying the story. As always, characters don't belong to me, but to their respective copyright holders._

"What just happened?" Elena asked. Both she and Damon stood staring at the empty doorway through which Stefan had carried Katherine's body.

Damon shook his head. "Nothing good."

"I have to go after them. I have to make sure Stefan's okay." Elena made to move towards the door, but Damon held out an arresting arm.

"Not a good idea, Elena. He's probably miles off by now. And having you with him while he buries your doppelganger ex might be just a little weird for him. He'll be back." But Damon wasn't as confident as he sounded. The way Stefan had reacted was startling, to say the least. He'd spent 150 years swearing up and down that Katherine had meant nothing to him, that she'd compelled his love and on and on like an insufferable ass. But when push came to shove, Stefan had been shaken to the core at her death. Huh. It had to be done, Damon had no regrets, but he wasn't so sure that Stefan would come out of this unscathed. "Besides, we've got work to do. You wanna grab the other side of this mattress?"

Elena looked around, seeming to notice just how wrecked the room was for the first time. She blinked at him. "You just killed Katherine, Stefan just ran off with her body and you want to _clean_?"

"What can I say, cleaning puts me in my happy place. C'mon, Elena. There's nothing we can do for him right now. Stefan's gonna go do his thing and then he'll be back and you two can resume doodling hearts and unicorns together in study hall just like always." Damon seized the mattress without her help, starting to wrestle it back onto the box springs. It wasn't heavy, of course, but it was awkward for just one person to deal with.

"So you're just going to pretend like this doesn't affect you? Like everything's fine? Damon, you just _killed Katherine. _The woman you spent forever obsessing over. That has to mean something to you." She was so earnest with those big eyes and that little quaver in her voice. It almost made him—but no. That part of him was gone. The same part that would have been screaming over Katherine's death had carefully locked away any affection he may have felt for Elena. Much tidier that way.

Damon shoved the mattress into place, tossing a pile of discarded bedding on top. "I'm not pretending. Katherine made it painfully clear that I didn't mean a thing to her and never had. She was obviously here to stir up trouble, and it was about time I repaid her for that century and a half of suffering. I'd think you'd be happy she was gone. She did invade your house, try to kill your uncle slash father, and turn Caroline, after all." He stooped, picking up a teddy bear that had fallen to the floor. "And how is Caroline still alive? You didn't stake her? That girl is going to make the _worst_ vampire."

"She's okay. I mean, she killed a carnie, but she's gonna be okay. But we're not talking about Caroline right now. We're talking about—"

"Spare me, Elena. Maybe Stefan has mopey, pathetic feelings about Katherine's death, but you know what I feel?" He tossed the stuffed animal aside, striding over to Elena, staring down at him. "I feel _free._ And I refuse to feel sorry for that." Standing so close to her, he realized for the first time how pale and tired she looked. It hadn't been an easy night for her, dealing with a vamped Caroline and Stefan's defection. Not when you had to feel every hurt, every pain…No. He was doing the right thing, keeping his emotions safely locked away. This just confirmed it.

Elena looked up at him in silence for a long, long moment. He wanted to move away, put some distance between them, crack wise and go back to cleaning the room or slip out the window and into the night, but he didn't. He stood, evenly meeting her gaze until she spoke.

"What you said about Jeremy. About how you just wanted to help him take the pain away. Was that true?"

Here it was. He knew the event had to come to a head sooner or later, that she couldn't just accept that he was a monster who had killed her brother and stolen her free will and blah blah blah. She had to understand it, try to see the good in it.

"Yeah. I meant every word."

She considered this in silence for a long moment. "I believe you. It makes you a complete and total psychopath, but I know that in your own drunken, upset way, you were trying to help. Even though it was really, really screwed up, and if you _ever_ try to compel me again, I'll—"

"Yeah yeah, stake me where I stand. I get it." He cocked his head to one side as he looked down at her. It was a very small shift, but something had changed. A faint smile quirked his lips. "You don't hate me anymore. That was fast."

"Don't make me regret it. Now are we gonna clean up this room or what?"


	8. Chapter 8

_Hey everyone! Hope you had a happy Thanksgiving. As always, the characters belong to their copyright holders, not to me. Please enjoy._

"Do we have to put the horse picture back up?" Damon eyed the space above Elena's bed skeptically. "It makes you look like such a horse girl, and you're really not the My Little Pony type."

"Come on, Damon. Just put it back up. My mom gave it to me when I was a little girl." Elena was fitting the last ransacked drawer back into its housing. "Let's just get this done so I can go to bed."

"You know what would look better up there? A nude painting. A classy one. I could draw it for you. I'd need some inspiration, though. _Titanic _style." Damon cocked his eyebrows at her for a moment before climbing onto the bed and re-securing the sketch.

Elena rolled her eyes extravagantly, flopping onto the foot of the bed and beginning to fold scattered clothing. "What do you think Katherine was looking for, anyway?"

Damon shrugged, taking a few steps back to make sure the picture was level before turning and settling down next to Elena. "Not sure. It was something small though—she was looking in your jewelry box. Even broke off the little ballerina, though that might just have been spite. Maybe some Gilbert family heirloom?"

"Yeah, it's possible. I have tons of that old stuff. Jeremy does, too, and then there's all the rest of the junk that's in storage. It could be almost anything." She balled a pair of socks and set them down, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "I guess it doesn't matter now, though." 

"Well—" Damon started to give her the logical answer, that if Katherine was looking for it, someone else probably was, too. But she didn't need to hear that right now. "You're right. It doesn't matter. She's dead." It was still strange to think that Katherine was really dead, and he'd been the one to do it after all these years.

"Do you think he'll be okay? Stefan, I mean." Elena turned a bit so she was facing Damon more fully, their knees touching. Damon blinked. Should he offer another convenient lie, or the truth?

"I don't know, Elena. I never expected her death to hit him like that. He's been saying for decades that he never really loved her, that it was all compelled, but…" He shook his head. "I haven't seen him look like that since Lexi died."

Elena gave him a _look, _obviously restraining herself from a smart remark about his role in Lexi's death. "The way he just left with her…it was weird. I'm worried about him."

"Yeah. Me too." The words were out before he'd even really thought about them. He wasn't supposed to feel anything, let alone worry over his pain in the ass brother who _always _got the girl. But there it was.

"I should probably get some sleep." Elena made no move to stand. She reached out a tentative hand, resting it on his arm. Damon quirked a brow at her. "What you did tonight-I know it wasn't easy for you to…to kill her, but it was the right thing." Her eyes went hard for a moment, and she looked so like Katherine Damon had a sudden fear he'd made a terrible mistake, that he'd staked the wrong one. But it passed it in an instant, melting back to those soft eyes. "No matter what happens with Stefan, I know that was the right thing."

Damon felt a sudden stirring in a dark recess he thought he'd banished forever. Why couldn't he keep it together? Things were so much easier when there was nothing—why did he keep having to _feel _around her? He pulled away suddenly, rising to his feet.

"For once, murder was the answer. Glad I could be of service doing what I do best." He couldn't let her forget what he was, couldn't let her think he was a fluffy puppy like Stefan. She wanted to forget, to think of him as a friend, but he just couldn't allow it. Not for either of their sakes. "Go to bed, Elena. Stefan will be back in the morning." Probably.

He started to say something more, but shook his head and crossed to the window, exiting into the cool Virginia night. He watched from the shelter of a live oak as Elena disappeared into the bathroom. She returned and the golden rectangle of light disappeared, but still he watched and listened until her heartbeat slowed into the rhythm of sleep. Only then did he turn his feet towards home.


	9. Chapter 9

Virgo reclined in the heavens and Mercury nudged its way just over the horizon. It was so dark that Damon could make out all the stars he so rarely so anymore. Normally, the light pollution of Mystic Falls kept him from tracing the familiar constellations, but not here. It was almost like old times, only it was asphalt at his back instead of dirt.

This stretch of deserted country road was one of his favorite hunting grounds—only the odd car every hour or two, plenty of time to do his business and be gone before he could be stopped. And it gave him time to think while he waited for some Good Samaritan to stop and help the poor man lying in the road.

Despite his reassurances to Elena, Stefan hadn't come back. Damon wasn't particularly surprised, but he'd fielded several frantic texts and phone calls from Elena. "It hasn't even been a whole day," he'd reminded her. "He spent a long time hung up her."

"Yeah, but you were completely obsessed with her, and you're not acting like this," Elena had retorted.

"It's amazing how fast you can get over someone when you don't give a damn," came the calm reply. "Plus, the whole 'I never loved you, it was always Stefan' thing helped a lot, too. And a stake to the heart can be incredibly cathartic. Look, Elena, if he's still not back by tomorrow, I'll go looking for him, okay? Just give him some time."

That had placated her for the time being. Besides, she was busy dealing with Caroline. Apparently Bonnie had agreed to make a day walking ring for the young bloodsucker that evening, so that should keep her occupied and out of trouble for one night. At least enough time for him to grab a bite to eat. And what better way to eulogize Katherine than to use one of her favorite hunting tricks?

He heard a car approaching in the distance, and quickly flipped over onto his belly, sprawling out in his best road kill pose. Damon just hoped that the car stopped—a few times he'd been run over playing this game, and it always hurt like a bitch. But better to be run over by a car than a horse and buggy—those hooves were _sharp. _

The gleam of headlights cut through the darkness, and he felt his mouth water with anticipation. Who would it be? A tasty coed? An older couple, maybe, aged like a fine wine? He savored the unpredictability as the car came to a stop in front of him, tensing to strike as the car door opened, but gave a groan as he heard familiar footsteps approaching. "Elena, what are you doing out here in the middle of the night?"

"Damon? What are you doing in the middle of the road? Are you hurt?" She was at his side in an instant, kneeling next to him. "Did Stefan do this to you?"

"What? No, I was just trying to grab a bite. Why would you think Stefan had anything to do with this?" He sat up, frowning at Elena. Her heart was racing. She was scared—but not of him.

"Stefan's back. He took Bonnie." Damon was on his feet in a flash, pulling Elena up after him.

"Tell me in the car." Damon grabbed Elena's elbow, propelling her towards the passenger side door before flashing to the driver's seat and taking off back towards town. It was a mark of Elena's agitation that she didn't argue with him about driving. "Start from the beginning. Tell me everything."

Elena took several deep breaths to steady herself. "I was on my way over to Caroline's. Bonnie was going to make the ring for her, like I told you. But then I got a call from Caroline. She and Bonnie were waiting for me, then all of a sudden Stefan was there. And he just took her. Caroline said he was so fast—too fast for even her to follow them. And she called me and I came looking for you and then you were in the middle of the road and—"

"Yeah, I got that part." Damon scowled at the road, turning away from the modern town and towards the wooded ruins of old Mystic Falls. "He didn't say anything?"

"No, not a word. Caroline's freaking out—_I'm _freaking out. You know something. You know what's going on. Where are we going?" Elena peered out the window, one hand clutching the car door. Damon drove without regard to things like speed limits—not when he could sense police radar from a mile away.

"Stefan's got Katherine's body. He's got a witch. There's only one place he could be." Damon stepped on the gas, wishing for his own car rather than this piece of shit. They just didn't make cars like they used to.

"What are you talking about? Where are they?" Elena's voice cracked.

"They're at the tomb, Elena." Damon glanced over at the girl, her face pale in the darkness. "He's trying to bring her back."


	10. Chapter 10

_Hey everyone! Thanks for reading. If you are enjoying the story (or if you're not and want to tell me what I'm doing wrong), please drop me a review. As always, the characters don't belong to me. _

"Trying to bring her back? No, Damon, there has to be some other explanation. Stefan wouldn't do that. He's not like—" Elena broke off, swallowing her next words.

"Not like me, you mean? Ouch." He shook his head. "Think, Elena. Why would he insist on 'burying' her alone? Why else wouldn't he have come back? Why would he kidnap Bonnie? He's always been unnecessarily nice to her—if he wanted something _sane, _he'd just ask."

"But Stefan didn't even know she was alive until two days ago! Why would he get so upset about her being dead now? He dealt with her being dead just fine for this long. No. There has to be something else. Maybe…maybe he didn't want Bonnie making a ring for Caroline?"

It was almost cute trying to watch her way reason out of this massive cluster fuck. Almost. Things were far too serious to spend time dealing with her denial.

"Stop thinking like a human." Damon turned the car sharply onto the side road that would take them near the tomb. "Stop _feeling _like a human. Remember, we don't experience emotions like you do. Well, not those of us who choose to have them. Everything is heightened—what he felt when he got her back, what he felt when he lost her again. He never really properly mourned her back in 1864—he was too busy dealing with all his new vampire super powers. Call this a delayed reaction."

Damon threw the car into park, sending Elena tumbling towards the dashboard with an indignant squawk. He turned towards the back seat, scouring for any of Ric's goodies. Damn. Not even a vervain grenade. "Is there any point in me telling you to stay in the car?"

Elena didn't even bother responding as she slid out of the car and began marching through the forest. "Why do you think they're in the tomb? Why would he bring her here?"

"It's a witch…thing." Damon fell into step beside her, resisting the urge to use his superior speed to race to the tomb. But nothing magical was going to go down until the moon was at its apex. They had time. Better to go slow than to leave her alone. "Even though Katherine wasn't trapped there, all those vampires left behind a lot of psychic energy. Lots of suffering, lots of death and blood magic stuff. Witches can use that kind of power to do all sorts of things."

"But Bonnie would never help bring Katherine back!"

"Look, I don't think Bonnie can really do it. Spells that bring people back from the dead—let alone ones that bring _vampires _back—are almost impossible. But that doesn't mean he won't try. And a broken knee cap is very persuasive." Damon wasn't exactly thrilled to be playing white knight to Bonnie just now—not when she'd nearly gotten him barbequed two days ago. But on the off chance that Stefan really could torture her into properly completing some sort of resurrection spell, Damon supposed it was better to deal with her than a pissed off Katherine.

The pair drew to a stop about a quarter mile from the tomb's entrance. "Stefan, I can't do it! Even if I wanted to, I don't have the power to do what you're asking. And I can't do that to her. I'd rather die first." Bonnie, her voice tremulous but strong. Damon couldn't help but admire the little spitfire.

"Bonnie, don't make me do it this way. You know I don't like hurting you. But I will." Stefan's voice sent a chill up Damon's spine. He hadn't heard Stefan sound like that in decades: calm, collected, utterly matter of fact. And then there was a sharp _crack_—probably a finger bone—and a scream cut through the air.

Elena started running as she heard Bonnie's cry in the distance, tearing through the leaves towards the tomb steps. Damon followed at a jog, letting her stay in front of him. Even with Stefan on a bit of a tear, he wouldn't put Elena in any danger. Seeing her might help calm him down.

Damon clattered down the steps just feet behind Elena. The scene was about what he'd expected: torchlight flickered off the dripping stone walls, bathing Katherine's body in eerie shadows where it rested on a low stone bower. Bonnie was huddled in one corner, her face stained with tears, clutching one injured hand to her breast. And Stefan—

Well, Damon had only a moment to realize where Stefan was as his own neck was wrenched to the side. Damon distinctly felt the cervical vertebrae grind, crack, and then shatter with an explosion of pain. Elena's scream ushered him into the waiting blackness.


	11. Chapter 11

_Thanks everyone! As always, all characters belong to their copyright holders, not to me. Please enjoy._

Elena's screams had dragged Damon into the darkness, but it was her calm voice that led him back out.

"Stefan, I _love _you. Don't do this. She's gone, and we'll get through this. We'll get through it together." She sounded so far away as Damon struggled through layers of pain and confusion.

Getting your neck broken really wasn't that bad—the pain was over quickly and then it was just a matter of taking a little nap until the healing factor kicked in. But in order for the neck to heal, it had to break _again _as it returned to its normal position. And that was the part that hurt like a motherfucker. But Damon couldn't even allow himself a scream. He'd blown his tactical advantage once by charging down here like a bat into hell. It wasn't going to happen again.

Damon gritted his teeth as his neck involuntarily snapped forward, choking on his own cries as the vertebrae slowly, agonizingly restored themselves. He had to focus on something else. Assess the situation, Salvatore.

He was lying on his side, arms and legs forced behind him and bound together with sturdy chains. Hogtied. Charming—and almost impossible to break free.

Damon nearly gasped in relief as the last vertebrae clicked into place, leaving him with nothing more than a stiff neck. Good. That was done. Now he could really survey the battlefield. Cautiously, he cracked his eyes open just a hair, using his long eyelashes to hide the movement from view. His view was shadowy and limited, but it was enough to see that this was very, very bad.

Elena lay next to Katherine's lifeless body on that low stone table, her feet bound, but her arms were free. Well, not quite. Elena's left arm was free, but her right hand was bound to Katherine's left, the two forced together at the palm in a grotesque mockery of prayer.

Stefan stood over Bonnie, blocking Damon's view of the little witch, but he didn't need to see to smell the blood. It hung thick in the air, and the labored beating of Bonnie's heart told him it was still flowing freely. Stefan must have grown impatient with merely breaking fingers.

"Bonnie, this can all stop. You only have to do this one small thing. I know you can do it—you're the strongest Bennett witch I've ever seen." Stefan's voice was cajoling, as if he were asking a friend for a trifling favor. "Can't you feel Katherine here waiting? All you have to do is bring her home."

"Bring her home?" Bonnie sounded like hell, her voice weak and roughened with screaming. How long had Stefan been playing this game? "You're not talking about bringing her home, Stefan—you're talking about letting her possess Elena. You know what that would do."

Oh. Shit. That…made sense. He wasn't going to resurrect Katherine at all—after all, why waste power reanimating something that was long dead when he had the perfect body waiting for her? It looked like her, it felt like her, it shared a blood line. It was the ideal vessel. And there was no doubt in Damon's mind that Bonnie could do it.

"We've been through this, Bonnie. I know what will happen, but you're going to do it anyway." Stefan turned away from Bonnie, and Damon quickly snapped his eyes shut. "Maybe I've been going about this the wrong way. I know how much you love precious Elena, how you'd sacrifice anything for her." Damon heard footsteps moving away from Bonnie and towards Elena. "I think you just need the proper motivation."

"Stefan, what are you doing? Stefan, don't do—" Damon heard the knife parting through tender flesh, smelled the tang of fresh new blood in the air long before he heard Elena's scream.

Damon nearly blew everything, nearly destroyed his element of surprise in some scream of agony, some pathetic lurch towards Stefan. He almost certainly would have, if he hadn't felt the sudden, intense heat focused on two crucial links of chain, right where his bound hands met his bound feet. God bless that judgy little witch.

"It can be fast or slow for her, Bonnie. But one way or another, you're going to do this," Stefan said.

"Don't hurt her! Please. I don't want her to die, not like this. I'll do it. I'll do it." Bonnie's sob echoed off the walls of the tomb, and Damon heard footsteps moving back towards the witch.

Damon slammed his body forwards, snapping the weakened links in the blink of an eye. In the next instant, he leapt for Stefan.


	12. Chapter 12

_Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! They give me lots of impetuous to keep doing mean things to our favorite gang. Sorry for leaving you hanging last time—please enjoy this new chapter. Of course, none of these characters belong to me, but are owned by their copyright holders._

Stefan was fast, faster than his normal diet of forest creatures should have allowed. So he was back on the human stuff. Good for him. But 24 hours of quaffing human blood wasn't enough to make up for half a century of denial. Stefan's enhanced speed gave him just enough of an edge to whirl away from Bonnie in time to catch a booted foot directly to the chest.

Damon slid the length of chain that still clung to his arm down, wrapping the end around his hand. "You should've started drinking the people blood sooner, brother." He snapped the chain out smartly, leaving a bloody welt on Stefan's face. "Too little, too late." Damon raised his arm, preparing to strike his brother with a disabling blow, but he hadn't anticipated Stefan recovering so quickly. Nor had he seen the stake up Stefan's sleeve.

Later, Damon would always wonder exactly what had happened—had Stefan intended to miss his heart, or had Damon just gotten lucky? Whatever Stefan's true intention, the stake wound up buried in Damon's side, tearing its way between two ribs with a sickening squelch as blood and muscle and bone parted around the splintery thing.

Damon staggered back, falling to his knees beside Katherine's body, nerveless fingers attempting to rip the stake from his side as Stefan approached. Damon was cornered, injured, his only weapon a lethal stake. It wasn't supposed to end like this between the brothers. This time would be like all the others, surely—someone would get locked in a dungeon until they'd worked their crazy out, and all would be well. Wouldn't it?

The stake came free in his hand and Damon rose to a half crouch, bracing himself against the low altar, stake raised. "I won't miss, Stefan. If I could stake Katherine, I can stake you." His voice shook, the lie plain on his face. Stefan moved a step closer.

"One more step and you'll never get her back, Stefan." Elena lay a few feet to the side of the altar, one hand still bound to Katherine, the other wrapped around the handle of a torch. A deep, vicious cut marred the entire length of one soft cheek. "I'll light her up like a Christmas tree. And you can't do this without her body, can you?"

Stefan's look of terror confirmed Elena's hunch. Katherine's physical body was somehow necessary to anchor Katherine's spirit or some witch bullshit. Without that, it was game over.

"Here's what's going to happen. Bonnie is going to come over here and untie me. Then you take this carcass and you leave town. You and Katherine can be together. _Forever._" Disgust dripped from every word. Gone was the simpering, crying girl. Only the steel that lay at the core of Elena Gilbert remained.

"Bonnie. Do it." Stefan never took his eyes away from Katherine's form, lying there on the ground in a tangled heap of limbs. The witch climbed to her feet, laboriously making her way over to the grotesque tableau. Blood streamed from her neck, and Damon's stomach lurched as he realized she was missing the last two fingers on her right hand.

"Elena, you can't just let him walk away." Damon clutched his side, eyes still locked on Stefan.

"Not your call, Damon." Elena's voice was unnaturally calm as Bonnie awkwardly severed the rope that bound her to Katherine with the knife Stefan had been "playing" with. She took the blade from her wounded friend and cut the ropes that bound her feet, never releasing her hold on the torch. "Now come get her. And get out."

Stefan finally tore his eyes from Katherine, looking back to Damon with a Ripper smirk. "You sure you don't want to come, brother? You, me, and her? Just like it was always supposed to be."

Words failed. Stefan the pure of heart, Stefan the good, Stefan the righteous was gone. Damon could only shake his head mutely.

"Suit yourself." Stefan sauntered over to the girls, stooping to gather Katherine in his arms, smoothing her long matted hair with one hand. His eyes rose to meet Elena's one last time. "Be seeing you."

And he was gone.


	13. Chapter 13

_Thanks for the reviews! I'll do my best to keep the chapters coming. Please enjoy this one. As a reminder, I hold no copyrights to any characters, I'm just having fun with 'em._

"A little A-negative for the gentleman," Damon said, taking a long swill from the tubing of a blood bag. "And some vampire-positive for the lady." He set one of his cut crystal high ball glasses on the coffee table in front of Elena, biting a neat tear into his wrist and letting half an inch of the thick, dark blood collect in the glass. The wound was sluggish to close, even his vampiric healing qualities stressed to the max by the injuries of the evening.

Damon flopped onto the boarding house couch as Elena stared mutely at the glass, an old t-shirt from her car pressed against her still bleeding cheek. "Come on, Elena. It's just enough to make sure you don't wind up with a big, ugly scar," Damon said, taking another greedy pull from the blood bag. So much for his oath to never drink bagged blood again, but this wasn't exactly the right time to go on the prowl.

After Stefan's exit, they'd gotten Bonnie home. Elena had argued strenuously for a hospital as she picked Bonnie's severed ring and pinkie fingers up from the floor of the tomb, but Bonnie had quickly proven that unnecessary. There was nothing more disconcerting than seeing two fingers leap back to their severed stubs.

Elena hadn't argued about returning to the boarding house with Damon. Hadn't said a word since they'd dropped Bonnie off, in fact. She picked up the glass of blood, turning it slowly, the garnet liquid catching the flickering firelight. Damon finished his meal with a slurp, tossing the empty bag aside. He suppressed the urge to ask something stupid, like "Are you okay?" Of course she wasn't okay. Neither was he. What part of this situation was _okay_ on any level?

Damon reached towards her, hesitating before his fingers met that blood-soaked rag pressed to her cheek. "Let me see." She looked at him askance for a moment before pulling the makeshift bandage away. Damon hissed in sympathy. Stefan had cut nearly to the bone, a cut designed to inflict maximum damage and pain. And she hadn't shed a single tear this whole while, never complained.

"Elena, this is serious. I know you're afraid Stefan will come back, but you need to drink. Or you need to let me take you to the hospital so you can get stitches if you don't want to risk the blood." Ridiculous concerns, of course—nothing would keep Elena safer than becoming a vampire—but he knew she was squeamish.

She turned towards him, the blood in her cheek pulsing gently with every beat of her heart. "I'm not afraid he'll come back." Her voice was soft, but that undercurrent of steel belied every syllable. "If he comes back, I will kill him. End of story." Her grip tightened on the glass, and she knocked back the thick contents in a single gulp, coughing as the coppery liquid raced down her throat. Immediately, the edges of her cheek began to knit back together, rebuilding that beautiful curve of cheek as it once had been.

Damon nodded, rising and pouring each of them two fingers of Scotch, pressing one into her hand as he reclaimed his seat. "What you did tonight...I've never seen anything like it, Elena. If you hadn't managed to get that torch, I...I don't know what would have happened."

Actually, he had a pretty damned good idea. In his heart of hearts, Damon knew that the hand that killed Stefan would not be his own. It was a weakness that Damon was supposed to have purged from himself, supposed to have been hidden away where no one could ever find it. But Damon loved his brat of a brother, and that stake never would have found its mark. It was a secret no one could ever know.

New, pink skin covered Elena's cheek, the delicate flesh and the bloodstains the only trace of the ruin that had been. Damon smiled, the very tips of his fingers brushing against the tender skin. "Good as new."

Elena froze at his touch, and Damon sighed and withdrew his hand, taking a long swallow of Scotch. "Look, I know you don't want to stay here. Not with me. But it's the safest place, at least until we're sure Stefan's left town and isn't going to come after you." Damon polished off the rest of his drink and plucked Elena's untouched one from her fingers. "I may be psychotic, but I'll keep you safe. I promise you that."

Suddenly, Elena was in his arms, nearly sending the second tumbler of Scotch flying. Damon disposed of the glass, staring down at the girl with wide eyes. She buried her face into his shoulder, hands gathering fistfuls of his shirt. After a moment, his arms closed around her, stroking his blood-matted hair, cradling her against him.

They sat together in silence, clutching one another for dear life, until the sun rose.


	14. Chapter 14

"Could you make me forget?"

Damon stirred, blinking blearily down at Elena. He reclined against the arm of the couch, Elena's head resting on his chest. Damon's arm curled about her, giving her shoulder a faint squeeze. "Thought you were asleep." Elena gave the slightest shake of her head.

The question was both surprising and utterly expected. On the one hand, Elena had always been adamant about not being compelled herself, in no small part because of their recent adventures in compulsion. But on the other hand, she'd been all for it when it came to protecting Jeremy. And after what she'd been through, could you blame the girl for wanting to forget her boyfriend taking a knife to her face?

"Could I make you forget what, exactly?"

"Everything." Elena lifted her head, shifting so she could meet his eyes. "That I ever knew Stefan, that I ever loved him, that any of his happened. Could you do it?"

Damon sighed, pushing himself into a more upright position. One hand absently toyed with Elena's hair, wrapping the strands around and around his fingers. "In theory, yes. In practice...You're talking about essentially deleting a person from your memory, a person who was an integral part of your life for the last six months. So sure, I could make you forget Stefan. But your mind probably couldn't fill in all the blanks in your memory in a way you could accept. There'd be too many holes."

Elena nodded, settling down against him again. Damon was amazed at the casual intimacy, how he could simply reach out and touch her face, run his fingers through her hair. She trusted him. "I'd do it if I could, Elena. I could at least take away the last few days, say that Stefan left town for some reason-"

"No. It's...tempting. Really, really tempting. But you're right, it wouldn't solve anything. I'd just hurt without knowing why," Elena said.

"So you let me—actually, _begged_me—to help Jeremy, to take away his pain, but you won't let me do the same for you?" A faint smile traced his lips. "Little hypocritical, don't you think?" His tone was gentle, but the question sincere.

"Yeah. It is. But I'd make the same call again if I had to. Guess I just like to suffer. Lucky me, I get lots of opportunities for it." She pulled away from him, disentangling herself and starting to rise. Damon immediately felt the loss of her warm body, her constant heartbeat, the smell of her skin.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I need to get cleaned up, check on Bonnie, go to school. You know, normal living my life and not obsessing over Stefan kinda stuff. Give me my keys." Elena extended an expectant hand.

Damon considered her statement for a moment. "Nope." He climbed to his feet and shoved his hands into his pockets, strolling towards the kitchen. Elena followed in his wake, sputtering.

"What do you mean, 'nope'? Damon, I have to go, I can't just stay here moping all day."

"Moping's such an ugly word. Let's just call it 'regrouping,' shall we?" He smirked at her over his shoulder before pulling open the refrigerator. Pretty bleak: some beer, a box of baking soda, condiments, and..."How do you like your eggs?" He pulled the carton out of the fridge, heading for the stove.

"My eggs? Damon, I don't have time for this. Give me my keys, you can't keep me prisoner here."

"Prisoner?" He stopped in his search for a saute pan, looking at her with genuine hurt. "You're my _guest,_Elena. And as your host, it would be rude of me to let you leave when my brother has had a violent break with reality and wants to commandeer your body to host his dead girlfriend." Damon turned back to the cabinet, withdrawing the pan he needed and setting it on the burner. "It'd also be rude to let you go hungry. So—scrambled? Sunny side up?"

Elena opened and closed her mouth several times as she searched for a rebuttal. Damon smirked as he watched her consider and reject each one. She threw up her hands, flouncing over to the table and sitting down with a huff. "Over easy."

"That's more like it. If it makes you feel more like a guest, I could try to round up some singing dinner plates or something." Damon cracked two eggs into the pan.

"This doesn't have anything to do with you being worried over Stefan, does it? You're worried over _me,_that I'll have my own violent break with reality. Is that what this is?"

Damon concentrated on the eggs—it was so simple to ruin over easy. He delicately ran his spatula around the edge of each egg. "No. I don't have any concern that you might break. You proved last night you're made of stronger stuff than that." He paused for a moment, fixing her with those earnest blue eyes before flipping each egg to set the yolk. "I just think we need to be smart about this. Stefan isn't just going to give up. At school you're unguarded, he can get into your house...the safest place is with me. For now."

Damon slid both eggs onto a plate, delivering the breakfast with a flourish. "Besides, I need to make sure my cooking skills are still up to snuff."

Elena hesitated, reaching for the proffered fork and catching his hand with hers. "Stefan will never do that to me again. I will _not_ be a victim." She gave a fierce little nod and released him, turning her full attention towards breakfast. "And based on last night, if anyone takes him out, it might just have to be me."

Damon swallowed hard, sinking into the chair opposite her. "Yeah. It just might."


	15. Chapter 15

"Elena?" Damon frowned. Where was she? He'd hopped into the shower for just a few minutes and she'd pulled a Houdini. Did she take off to see Bonnie? They'd been chatting on the phone earlier and hadn't mentioned anything about it. Strange.

No sign of her in his bedroom or the kitchen or living room. Damon stopped his search and cocked his ear upwards. Oh. That explained it. He climbed the stairs and peered through the doorway to Stefan's room. Elena sat on the edge of his bed, her nose buried in a book. A diary.

"You sure you want to be reading that?" Damon leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed.

Elena's head jerked up, her hands clenching on the book. "Have you read this?" Her voice was tight and brittle. Damon frowned and walked towards her, peering down at the book.

"Depends on which volume of the Stefan Files you're reading. I've read some of them." He tried to pluck the book from her grasp, but Elena moved it out of his reach.

She began to read. "'May 23, 2009. I have located the Petrova doppelganger. The legends were right—the girl is like Katherine in every way. Her face, her body, even her scent is the same. But she's completely human.'" Elena glanced up at Damon before continuing. "'I must protect her. If Elijah finds her before I can put my own plan into motion, all these years of searching will be for nothing.'"

Damon sank onto the bed next to her, succeeding in claiming the book from her this time, eyes searching the page. It was Stefan's hand, that neat and even cursive script Damon knew so well. Elijah. What dealings did Stefan have with an Original? How long had he been playing this game? He stared at the book in silence, turning page after page. Scattered references filled the pages, but they didn't make sense—something about a sacrifice, about the sun and the moon, about keeping Elena safe until he could act.

"_Damon.__" _Elena's insistent voice drew him from his reverie. "Did you _know_? Did you know this was his plan all along?"

"No." A name leapt from the page. _Klaus._Damon snapped the book shut. "I didn't know anything about this. I never saw this. But we have bigger problems than when Stefan started being a complete dick, Elena." Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It wasn't just an Original coming after Elena, it was _Klaus._Fuck didn't really cover it.

Damon rose, pacing a short track back and forth on the floor. Think. Think. Okay. They had time. Obviously Elijah and Klaus didn't know about Elena yet or they'd already be here. Stefan had been biding his time, but the revelation of Katherine being alive and then dying again had forced is hand sooner than he'd planned. But Elena's anonymity could run out at any time. Would Stefan even betray them to the Originals as revenge? Too many variables, too many possibilities-

Elena was at his side, capturing his hand in hers. He stopped his frantic pacing, raising his eyes to meet hers. "Damon. You need to tell me what's going on." She drew him back to the bed, lacing her fingers through his.

He sat, fingers tightening around hers. _Keep__it__together,__Salvatore,_ he thought. _You're__her__only__shot__now._

"I don't understand all of it. I don't know what a Petrova doppelganger is, but Katherine's real name wasn't Katherine Pierce. It was Katerina Petrova." Elena's eyes widened, but he raised a hand, cutting off any comment. "Elijah is one of the most powerful vampires in the world, an _Original_ vampire with a capital 'O.' I don't know why he wants you, but it can't be for any good reason, Elena." There was no reason to mention Klaus. She wouldn't really understand what it meant, how utterly fucked they were.

Elena's brow furrowed. Her jaw clenched. She opened her mouth, ready to give words of defiance, fighting words: They'd get though this, they'd escape, they'd find a way to win. And then her face crumpled.

For the first time since this began, fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook as a sudden sob tore its way from her throat. This wasn't pretty, dainty crying. This was a girl who had lost literally everything, and found there was still more she could lose.

_There's always room for more pain._

"It's going to be okay, Elena." _Lie._"I won't let them hurt you. Not Elijah, and especially not my brother." _Lie._

Still the tears came. Damon rested his hands on either side of her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks. "Elena, look at me. _Look_ at me." Those brown eyes focused on him, tears still streaming out endlessly. That pain again in her eyes, that terrible, unquenchable pain. Damon leaned forward, his lips brushing her forehead.

"I will protect you. We will survive this," he murmured, lips still resting against her soft skin.

Elena pulled away. She was a mess, face blotched with red, hair stuck to her cheeks. She was beautiful. She searched his face, and then her lips found his.


	16. Chapter 16

_Hey everyone! I took a little break, but I think I've got a couple of new ideas for taking this in a fun direction. Please enjoy this chapter, and don't hesitate to leave your feedback, good and bad. Thanks!_

How could Damon have ever confused Elena's kiss for Katherine's?

Elena's lips met his, so warm and insistent, her tongue searching, entering him desperately. Kissing Katherine was like drinking deep, musty red wine. Her mouth tasted of experience and age, of sinister notes and dark secrets. Kissing Elena was like drinking Champagne, all lightness and innocence. Even now, in her moment of greatest despair, she tasted of hope and freedom.

Damon allowed himself to indulge for a moment, devouring her, cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand. He wanted to stay like this, wanted to surrender and take comfort in her. But he broke away with a grunt of frustration. "I can't _believe_ I'm saying this. Elena, stop."

"No. I'm tired of stopping, tired of trying to do the right thing. Where does that get me, Damon? Tortured, dumped, ditched and in danger. Let me do the thing I _want_to do, Damon. Just help me forget for a while." She moved towards him again, lips parted.

Damon flashed across the room, leaving her sprawled on the foot of the bed. "Elena, if we do this. If we do what you're asking—what you're really asking—you're going to regret it." He smiled sadly. "Wish it wasn't so. But I'm not gonna be your rebound guy. If you want to forget, the offer to compel you is still on the table. Or we can get stumbling drunk. But I'm not going to have sloppy, sad sex with you just so you can turn those big doe eyes on me in the morning and say we should just forget it all ever happened."

There they were, those giant brown eyes staring at him in surprise. She really thought he'd fold, that he'd give into her feminine charms. He laughed. Life was just too fucking funny sometimes. After he'd abased himself, made a fool of himself, begged for her, now the tables were turned. It would be so easy to go to her now, to show her everything she'd been missing with children like Matt and Stefan. But he didn't want it to be like that. Not with her.

Elena took a deep, shuddering breath, wiping the smudgy tears from her cheeks with one hand, suddenly embarrassed by the emotion. "You're right. I don't...I don't know what came over me. We don't have time for this right now."

Situation defused. For now. Damon let his smug, cavalier mask slide back down over his face, a sardonic smile quirking lips that still burned from her touch. "Yep. We've got reading to do." He crossed the room and scooped up Stefan's journal. "Where'd you find this, anyway? I thought I knew most of his hiding places. He must have kept all the juicy stuff hidden somewhere really sneaky."

"Yeah. Yeah, it was pretty dastardly." Elena managed a tremulous smile through the remnants of her tears. "It was under his mattress."

"Seriously? Under his _mattress?_He must've figured it was too obvious for me to check. Sometimes he's so stupid, he comes all the way back around to being clever." Damon gestured for Elena to rise, pushing the mattress off the box springs with one shove. Nothing. He must've kept any other incriminating volumes somewhere else.

Thus began the systematic dismantling of Stefan's room. The younger Salvatore's pack rat nature made the task a chore—the sheer amount of _stuff_ in the room allowed for so many hiding places. Elena rifled through drawers; Damon tugged at loose fireplace pavers.

"Hey, Damon?" Elena was sorting through a box of yellowed, crumbling documents.

"Hm? Find something?" Damon had one ear held close to the wall, tapping at regular intervals, listening for any sign of a hollow place behind the boards.

"No, nothing yet. I was thinking about what Stefan wrote. About how he knew right away that I was a doppelganger...thing." She frowned, pausing to examine a brittle page before setting it aside. "What did you think when you first saw me? Did you think I was her?"

"At first I thought I was crazy." Tap. Tap. Tap. "I saw you before you came by the house, you know. When I first came into town, I saw you outside the Grill. Thought maybe Emily Bennett had sent some kind of vision to torment me from beyond the grave." How else could anyone look so like her? Every detail, the way she moved, the way she smiled... "But once I talked to you, I knew you were a completely different person. No one could know you both and think you were the same-" Damon stopped abruptly, turning to face Elena, eyes wide.

"What? What is it? You found something?" Elena tossed the box of papers aside, walking towards him/

"No. Not a damned thing. But I know how we get to Stefan." Damon bit his lip. "You aren't going to like it, though."


	17. Chapter 17

Elena stood in her bathroom, carefully wrapping a thick strand of hair around her curling iron. "This is insane."

"What's insane is your wardrobe." Damon was next door in her bedroom, riffling through the closet. "Don't you have anything that doesn't have ruffles and unicorns?"

"I'm so sorry I'm lacking in 'undead psychopathic slut' wear. I'll try to do better in my next back-to-school shopping session," Elena released the fat banana curl, spraying it liberally with hairspray before joining Damon in the bedroom. "Well?"

Damon turned away from the closet to survey her. It really was uncanny. Except for the fluffy bathrobe, he could have been staring at Katherine. The curls, the dark eye makeup...almost everything was perfect. But almost wasn't going to cut it. Not if she wanted to get out of this alive.

"You've got the look down, but you can't just rely on curly hair to keep you safe. You have to move like her, you've got to make your expressions like hers. He's going to be looking at every little detail."

Elena frowned, tugging at an unfamiliar curl. "But I've barely seen Katherine. I definitely haven't had time to study her, and I got a B- in Theatre Studies. How am I going to fool him?"

"C'mere. Let me show you." Damon grasped Elena's hand, pulling her towards the mirror. He stood close behind her, hands resting lightly on her shoulders. "Katherine always smiled like she had a secret, like she was the smartest person in the room." Elena attempted the expression, bu it was still a little too broad, a little too innocent. "No, less, less. Just a little quirk of the lips. And lower your chin just a tad—there. Perfect."

Damon let his hands slide down her sides to rest on her hips, watching her face in the mirror. Elena's eyes widened ever-so-slightly, but she didn't drop that little smirk. She was good. "You're halfway there. Now we've just got to work on the walk." Damon pushed her hips this way and that. "Shoulders back. Head up. And always lead with the hips. Keep them moving. If you can keep him distracted with those, he might not notice anything else that's not right."

Elena hesitated a brief moment, then pulled away. She took a few steps back, then approached on Damon. Those dark eyes. Those laughing lips. Those hips. It was all too familiar. Damon closed his eyes and smiled. "Yep. You're going to be fine."

When he opened his eyes again, she flashed a satisfied smile, but it faded away too quickly. "That's the easy part. So we call Stefan, convince him you've gone just as nuts as he has and brought Katherine back using some magic he doesn't know about—and then what? This isn't like being addicted to blood, Damon. We can't just lock him up for a few day and expect everything to be fine."

"So what's the other choice, Elena? Best case scenario, even if he doesn't try to grab you and make you his Bride of Frankenstein, he falls deeper and deeper into this crazy little fantasy world he's built around Katherine. I've been down that road, Elena, and I can tell you that it fucking _sucks._" Damon reached to grab Elena's arm in frustration, but stopped himself, hand balling into a tight fist. "He's my brother. And even after all of the terrible things I did to him, he never gave up on me. Not once."

Damon took a step back, holding his hands up in surrender. "If you don't want to be a part of this, I get it. You haven't known him that long. You probably _should_ walk away. But I can't. One way or another, I have to try to save him."

For a long moment, Damon was sure she was going to back out. Sure she was going to say he was right, that she couldn't get involved in this, that he had to do it alone. But after an interminable pause, she nodded.

"I know no one will ever love him as much as you do. But I do still love him, even after all this." Damon couldn't suppress a small flinch at the words. Ah, Elena. She was so full of second chances. "And if there's any hope for him, we have to do it. Or we have to end it." Her eyes flashed steel, and then she turned to her closet, pulling out a short, light blue dress. "What about this? It's pretty slutty."

They ended up selecting a pair of skinny jeans, black pumps and a deep red tank top. No bra, at Damon's smirking insistence. Now she paced nervously as Damon tried to call Stefan. Again. They'd been trying for the past hour to reach him, but the phone had kept bouncing straight to voice mail. This wasn't exactly the kind of thing you could leave a message about-"Hey bro, brought our dead GF back to life, hit me back when you get this!"-so all they could do was try again. And again.

"It's not going to work, he must've ditched the phone-" Elena started to protest, but Damon gave her a quick warning look.

"It's ringing," he mouthed, clutching the phone. In a way, this was it. If Damon couldn't make Stefan believe him, all the costuming and playacting in the world wouldn't matter. The phone rang again. And again.

"What is it?"

"Oh, am I calling at a bad time? Are you cuddling your corpse right now? I can call back, I have _plenty _to do with my house guest right now." Damon let a smirk curl his lips, the expression letting him keep his voice light and sardonic.

"You called to tell me you're fucking Elena? Did you really think I'd care? She's just a meat puppet, just standing between us and what we both really want."

Damon winced slightly at Stefan's rough language. Stefan wasn't one for cursing—well, not unless it was directed at Damon. He was just glad Elena wouldn't be able to hear Stefan's side of the conversation

"Elena? Please, brother. Give me a little credit. Why waste my time with that child when I could have what we both really want?"

This was it. Damon had had 150 years to practice playing a duplicitous bastard. Elena had had about two hours to get used to the idea. He passed her the phone, giving her shoulder a squeeze for support. She took a long, deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Hello, Stefan. Did you miss me? I wanted to call earlier, but Damon and I have been...busy."

Damon let out his breath in a huge rush. It was perfect. The huskiness of her voice, the teasing, even that look on her face. Pitch perfect. Someone give that girl an Oscar.

"Katherine?" Poor Stefan. He sounded so lost, so confused. "No. This is a trick. Katherine is here, with me. There's no way to bring her back without-"

"Without that nasty rotting _thing_ you have? Oh, Stefan. So sweet and so stupid. There's more than one way to skin a cat. You were just trying to take the hard way. Also the really gross way."

Damon shot her a look. She was doing great, but too many high school-isms could give them away. Elena rolled her eyes at him and turned her focus back to the phone.

"I don't believe it. Why would Damon do it? He stopped me when I was so close—I was _so close._" That unhinged tone crept back into Stefan's voice. He was well and truly broken.

"You weren't even in the ballpark, let alone close to getting what you wanted. Bonnie never would have given you what you wanted, no matter what you did to her or to Elena. But there are other witches with a little more power and a little less self-righteousness out there. Damon's friend in Atlanta didn't need the body. Brie just needed the doppelganger."

"Katherine...?" Stefan's voice was tremulous, so full of hope he wouldn't allow himself to feel.

Elena steeled herself, casting Damon a panicked look. Stefan's emotional turmoil was getting to her. Hell, it was getting to him, too. But this was the toughest part. She had to get it. Damon seized her hand, clutching it between both of his. She could do this.

"That night of the ball. The night you told me you loved me, you called me your angel. Now I am your angel in truth, Stefan. Once again, death can't keep us apart."

Damon's hands tightened painfully around Elena's as they waited for a response. Damon had never told Stefan he'd overheard that conversation while he hid in Katherine's room—would it be enough to convince him?

A broken sob came from the other end of the line. "It's you. It's you. Where are you? I'll come to you. It's going to be how it was always supposed to be—the three of us for eternity. Katherine, I love you."

The words visibly stung Elena, but she clenched her eyes shut and soldiered on. "We're still on our way back from Atlanta. We'll pick you up. Meet us at the boarding house in an hour." She took a deep breath. "Nothing will keep us apart. I love you, Stefan."

"In an hour. Until then, my love." Stefan sounded so young again, falling back into the archaic language and rhythms of his youth. How deeply had he fallen into this madness? Would there be any bringing him back?

Elena ended the call and pulled away from Damon, gazing out the window and into the dark. He groped for words, something to comfort her, to lessen the pain of those words. But there was nothing.

"You did great. He believes it. I can tell—I can tell he believes it."

"He does. Now let's go save that ungrateful asshole."


	18. Chapter 18

"Katherine? Katherine!" Stefan ran into the boarding house, the door slamming against the wall. He was dripping from the sudden storm that had blown in—even the skies were feeling dramatic tonight—but he didn't seem to notice. His eyes were alight with manic energy, fever bright.

"There you are, Stefan. You've kept us waiting." Elena rose from her seat near the fire, smirking. Would he notice the faint tremble in her hands, the slight hitch in her breath?

If he did, Stefan didn't seem to care. He ran to "Katherine," scooping her up in his arms and spinning her in a dizzying circle. God bless her, Elena even managed a joyful little laugh, clasping her arms around his neck.

"I thought I'd lost you," Stefan murmured as he lowered her to the ground, stroking his thumb across her lips before diving in for a brief kiss. "I never realized what you meant until I lost you again. Katherine." He rested his head against Elena's chest like a child nuzzling its mother.

Elena stroked his hair, but gave Damon a wide-eyed look over his head. Damon was seemingly reclining with ease on one of the leather couches, his customary glass of Scotch dangling from careless fingers. But he was watching everything. Right now, Stefan was utterly unpredictable. The smallest tip could give them away, and Damon could only hope that he was still faster than his brother.

"Don't be so melodramatic, Stefan. That's usually Damon's gig." Elena lifted Stefan's chin so their eyes met. "I told you, we'll always find a way to be together. That's what true love is, isn't it?" If her smile was a trifle sad, her eyes a bit bright with tears, it escaped Stefan's deliriously happy gaze. The younger Salvatore brother nodded in agreement.

"As much as I hate to interrupt the _drama,_" Damon drawled, "It's about time we were going, don't you think?" He downed the contents of his glass and rose to join the pair, curling a possessive arm around Elena's waist.

Damon had expected his brother to bristle, to start their usual macho pissing contest. But he didn't. Instead, Stefan seized Damon in a massive bear hug.

"You did it. You brought her back." Stefan pulled back, beaming at his stunned brother. "I don't know how you did it, but you did. I don't know how I can ever than you enough. But I guess we'll have forever to find out."He grinned. "And you're right, it is time to go. There's just one last thing we need to do first."

"_Stefan_," Elena whined in her very best Katherine pout. "Whatever your 'last thing' is, we can do it later. I'm tired of waiting."

Stefan's brow furrowed. "But this can't wait, Katherine. We don't really have forever—not yet." He grasped her wrist, staring down at the faint twitch of her pulse beneath the thin skin, raising it to his lips,tongue darting over the tracery of blue veins. "You're still mortal. Like _her,_" Stefan sneered.

Oh. Well. Fuck. That hadn't been in the plan. Elena was doing her best to play it cool, but her eyes were like saucers.

"There'll be plenty of time to turn her. When we have the time to make it fun," Damon said, reaching out to slip Elena's wrist from his grasp. "We only get one shot at it. Might as well make it count."

Damon turned his lascivious gaze on Elena. "Besides, there are some advantages to having a human girl. For a while, at least."

"No. It's too dangerous. We can't wait. What if something happened to her? It's a miracle you brought her back once, we can't count on it happening again," Stefan said.

"Uh, guys? I'm standing right here, and I do have _some_ say in this," Elena said, voice quivering the slightest touch. "As much as I hate to admit it, Damon has a point. We need to get out of town before someone figures out that all is not right with Little Miss Goodie Two Shoes." She pressed her body against Stefan's, lips brushing his ear. "Don't you remember how it felt? The blood running down your throat, making you strong, making you live? Let's not waste that."

Stefan's face softened as he gazed down at her. "I want to give you everything. Everything you want. And I will. But I can't give you this."

Stefan was fast. So fast. Too fast for Damon to pull him back as he ripped his wrist open with such force blood spattered the walls. Too fast for Damon to stop him as he thrust the gash against Elena's struggling mouth. Too fast as Stefan wrapped his hands around Elena's thin neck.


	19. Chapter 19

A vaguely human-shaped blur ripped Stefan's hands from Elena's neck and sent him sprawling across = the polished hardwood floors. The figure came to rest between Elena and Stefan, pausing to straighten his tie.

Damon didn't stop long enough to get a good look at the stranger. He didn't give a fuck who their good Samaritan was, only that Elena was safe. Damon darted towards Elena, prepared to snatch her and throw her in the car and never look back. But the stranger looked at him with mild amusement and raised his hand in a negligent slap that sent Damon flying across the room.

Glass flew like shrapnel as Damon's back met with a row of family portraits, but Damon struggled to his feet. Across the room, Stefan did likewise, and the brothers shared a knowing glance. Whatever had just transpired between them, they had a common enemy now.

"Now, gentlemen, there's no need for all that. Let's sit down, you and Miss Gilbert and I, and have a civilized conversation." The stranger spoke with an undefinable accent and an air of utter boredom. He was tall, with old-fashioned long hair flopping into his face, an impeccable designer suit marred with a stipple pattern of Stefan's blood.

"She's not a Gilbert. She's a _Pierce,_" Stefan said.

"Stefan, shut up," Damon said. He tore his eyes away from the stranger enough to give Elena a quick once-over. As she wiped the blood from her lips, Damon remembered his first taste of blood, stolen from Katherine's lips in the night...He wrenched his thoughts to the present. Stefan hadn't killed her. She was alive. That was all that mattered. Now they could deal with the threat.

"A Pierce? How interesting. She's certainly not a vampire like the last Pierce—or Petrova—I knew. I don't mean either of you any harm unless you try to harm Miss-" he smiled, showing a hint of fang. "-unless you try to harm this girl." The stranger offered his crooked arm to the stunned Elena. "You've had quite a fright. Let's sit down and get you a drink, hm?"

Elena started to struggle, to refuse, to tell him to go to hell, but then she stopped mid-word, taking the offered arm. The man's back was to Damon, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what had just happened. All the vervain must have worked its way out by now. Damn. She was vulnerable. Again. Some more.

The stranger led Elena to a couch, taking up a seat to her right. The Salvatores followed, standing in identical arms-crossed poses.

"Allow me to explain myself," the man said. "My name is Elijah."

Elena gasped. Stefan furrowed his brow. Damon sighed. Great. Insane murderous brother? Check. Nigh unkillable super vampire with evil yet unknowable plans? Check. Elena chock full of vampire blood? Check.

This night couldn't get any better.

"I see you've heard of me." Elijah rose, opening a decanter and taking a sniff. He looked at the vessel with appreciation. "Do you mind if I have a drink?"

Damon waved his arm vaguely by way of permission, and Elijah poured four glasses, offering one to a Salvatore with each hand. Stefan stared, but Damon accepted a glass. Might as well have a last drink.

"If you've come for the doppelganger, you're too late. That isn't Elena Gilbert," Stefan said with idiotic pride. He really thought that technicality would keep her safe?

Elijah pressed Stefan's refused glass into Elena's hand before taking a sip from his own tumbler. "I find that hard to believe. I've been watching and waiting for a long time, and _that_ is Elena Gilbert, though that's not really important. What matters is that she's the Petrova doppelganger. And she's alive. No thanks to you, Mr. Salvatore." He gave Stefan a withering glare.

"And if I am the Petrova doppelganger, what does that mean? What do you want?" Elena's voice was soft but strong. Damon wanted once again to gather her in his arms and spirit her away where this pain could never reach her, but she didn't need that. Not really. She was strong, stronger than any person he'd ever met. Even sitting there with her hair a fright and blood staining her chin, she bore it all with grace.

"For now, it means I want you to be safe. And most of all, I want you to be human. My informants told me they thought the Salvatore brothers would accomplish that at all costs, but it seems they were mistaken," Elijah said, turning his full, polite attention to Elena. "So, Miss Gilbert—and it _is_ Miss Gilbert, isn't it?-allow me to take you home. I have a witch who can prevent these two from entering your house. You'll be kept under observation until I'm assured the vampire blood is out of your system, but after such a time, you'll be free to continue living your life unimpeded."

"Not happening," Damon said.

"She's not Elena!" Stefan insisted.

"Yes. But on my terms," Elena said. Three pairs of eyes stared at the girl. She rose, standing before Elijah, shoulders squared and chin high. "Damon's no danger to me. He won't be excluded from my house. You promise that no harm will come to him, Stefan, or anyone I care about. I'll give you a list. And-"

"You have quite a lot of demands for someone in no position to negotiate," Elijah observed drily.

Quick as a fox, Elena threw the glass in her hand down, shattering it against the coffee table. She scooped up a shard of glass and pressed it to her throat. Blood oozed from between her fingers as she clutched the glass. Elijah stuttered forward a step, eyes round. "I'm in every position to negotiate. Now do you want to hear my final demand or do you want to kiss my human ass goodbye?"

"You've made your point. Now _put it down_," Elijah held out his hand, and Elena obligingly placed the sliver of glass into it.

"Besides what I just said, you'll also have your witch look at Stefan. Something's wrong with him. This isn't..this isn't right. But you aren't to hurt him."

"Agreed. If you'll allow me to compel you to ensure you won't do anything rash." Elijah arched one eyebrow as both Elena and Damon began to protest. "Your friends can watch to ensure I don't do anything nefarious, but I assure you, I am a man of my word."

Elena hesitated for an endless moment. Damon was sure she was going to tell him no, that she was a woman of her word and would abide by their bargain, but instead, she nodded. "Done."

"Katherine?" Stefan whispered.

"I'm sorry," Elena said with a sad smile. "But we're going to get you help. We're going to find out what's wrong, and everything will be fine. Everything will be okay."

"Then we have an agreement." Elijah turned towards Stefan, catching his eye. "You'll come with me quietly, won't you?"

"I'll come with you quietly," Stefan echoed. Fan-fucking-tastic. The rumors were true: Originals could compel vampires. Swell.

"And you and the elder Mr. Salvatore will return to your home. My associate will be there soon. But in the meantime, you will not attempt to harm yourself in any way, nor will you knowingly allow yourself to come to harm."

Damon watched Elijah closely as he compelled Elena, but he saw nothing, just a dilating pupil and Elena nodding in agreement. "I wouldn't have done it anyway, Elijah," she said.

"No, you wouldn't have. Run along now. I'll hold my end of the bargain, see that you do the same. Come along, Stefan." The two vampires strode from the room without a backward glance.

"Do you have _any _idea what you've just done, Elena?" Damon grabbed her shoulder, pulling her towards him. "You just made a deal with the devil."

"Sometimes, the devil you don't know is better than the one you do," she murmured.


	20. Chapter 20

_New chapter, new title! I originally called it "Choices" because (1) I had no idea where this story was going, and (2) I suck at titles. So please enjoy the newest chapter of "Well and Truly Broken." Thanks to everyone who left a review—especially Lola, since I can't respond to your reviews. Hope this tides you over until the new episode tomorrow night!_

The sun was nearly rising as Damon dragged himself up the steps to Elena's room. She was exiting her bathroom, towel slung around her shoulders, all traces of Katherine's curly hair and dark eyes washed down the drain.

"It's done?" Elena asked, toweling her hair with one hand. Damon shut the door quietly—they'd managed to avoid waking Jeremy and Jenna so far, there was no reason to do it now.

"Apparently your house is 100 percent Stefan free. Hey, have you ever noticed that all the witches are black? Don't you think that's a little weird?"

Elena ignored him. "You gave her the list?"

"Him, you sexist pig." Damon sat on the edge of her bed, then thought better of it and flopped onto his back. He was exhausted. All he wanted to do was to curl up with a nice pint of blood from a pretty girl and sleep for a week. Possibly two. But that wasn't in the cards. "Your family, Bonnie, Caroline, Tyler, Matt, Alaric, your first grade teacher, and that guy you passed on the street once are all safe from Elijah."

"Even after all this, you can still make jokes?" Elena hung her towel on a hook on the back of her door, shucking off her bathrobe to reveal pajamas.

"I believe shrinks would call it a 'defensive mechanism.' I just say it's all I've got left." He sat up, looking at her quizzically. "You're going to wear that?"

"What else would I wear to bed? It's Saturday, I don't have to go to school."

"Elena. We're not staying here. We're leaving." Damon struggled to his feet and located a gym bag on the floor. He thrust it towards Elena. "Start packing. I hear Tahiti's lovely this time of year, so bring your bikini."

Elena looked at him, and then shook her head, pulling the covers back on her bed. "We're not even having this conversation. It's too stupid. I'm going to bed."

Damon was in front of her in a flash, mere inches separating them, her legs pressed against the frame of the bed. "What's _stupid_ is your insistence on believing Elijah. You can't trust any vampire, let alone an Original."

"I trust _you_."

Surely that couldn't be true. She was playing on his emotions, trying to keep him off center. It was working.

"Then you're a bigger idiot than I thought. I killed your brother, remember? Kidnapped you, compelled you, though you don't seem to mind _that_ as much when it's Elijah who does it," Damon spat.

"You did. And the fact that I trust you in spite of all that should say something," Elena said, one hand resting on his chest. Damon stared at that delicate hand, mind spinning. Could it be true? How could she trust him? He'd only ever showed her the monster, the very worst parts of him. And in spite of all that, she trusted him? This girl was either a fool or a saint. Probably both.

Elena raised his chin with one finger, meeting his gaze. "Now I need you to trust me. We can't run away from this. We'd never be able to stop running, no matter how far we went. If Elijah is as powerful as you say, he'd chase us to the ends of the earth. And for now, what he wants is to keep me safe."

"For now, Elena. You don't have any idea what his end game is. Stefan's diary kept talking about a sacrifice of some kind-"

"Which could be anything. Which could have nothing to do with me. We just don't know. We need more information. And the only way to get it is to stay. For now. If we need it, Tahiti will still be there."

Elena swayed on her feet, and Damon didn't hesitate. With vampiric speed, he scooped her into his arms and slid her between the sheets, drawing the blankets up to her chin. She was startled as she suddenly found herself snuggled in bed, but gave a wane, sleepy smile.

"So we can stay?"

Damon nodded. "Until we know more. Until we know something about Stefan." Damon refused to allow himself to feel hope for brother. He was no expert, but he was fairly sure that witchcraft couldn't mend someone who'd simply let his heart get away from him as Stefan had. That there might be no saving his little brother. And if that was the case...well, Damon refused to think about that, either.

"Will you stay with me? Until I fall asleep?"

A soft smile curved Damon's lips. A week ago, if Elena had asked him to stay with her, to hold her in her most vulnerable moments, he never would have believed his good luck. Now here it was: Elena trusted him. Wanted him to stay. And yet, he would have given it all back to have his brother whole again.

But Stefan was gone, in mind if not in body. The boy he'd played rounders with so long ago, the thoughtful, good man he'd become, the rival he'd fought bitterly for the affection of two women, were all gone, replaced by a mad, feral thing who chased an impossible dream of a woman who'd never really existed. And Damon was left to pick up the pieces.

"Yeah. I'll stay."


	21. Chapter 21

The moonlight bathed the lake in silver-gilded shadows, the breeze blew sweet with the scent of freshly mown hay, with an undercurrent of acrid smoke.

Damon supposed there were worse places to die.

Already he could feel himself weakening, faint with the strangest hunger. Food would never satisfy, but he refused to take the nourishment he craved. Not without her.

"I brought her for you. She's a gift." Stefan melted from the shadows, propelling a girl towards him. "You have to feed. If you don't, you'll die."

Damon's eyes struggled to focus on the image before him. Stefan, eyes shining in the night, blood spattered across his white shirt. And the girl he pulled behind him. Not just any girl. Elena.

"Stefan? What are you doing? What did you _do_? You never wanted to carry on without her." 

"Without her?" Stefan faltered.

"Without Katherine. Don't you remember?"

Stefan turned to him with the face of a demon, eyes full of blood, veins bulging, teeth lengthening into a horrible grin. "Tomorrow I'll figure out how to go on without her, but for now, I choose to live. And so will you."

Those fangs sank into Elena's neck, leaving two beads of garnet glittering in the moonlight.

Elena smiled. "You should drink, Damon. I want you to." She arched her neck towards him, a single line of blood dripping down her neck like a tear.

"No..." Damon murmured, but all that existed for him were those glistening drops of blood. It smelled of ambrosia, it smelled of life. He could sense her heart in it, the very essence of her being condensed into two specks of liquid. It would be so simple to drink, to drink until her veins collapsed and her heart went still and the husk fell away. She wanted him to...

"Wake up! Damon!" A sharp jolt tore him from the dream and back to the present as Elena frantically shook his shoulder.

It was full daylight in that warm, familiar little room. No lake. No moonlight. No blood. No Stefan.

"I...Sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep." Damon sat up, still blinking away the vestiges of the dream.

"I don't care about that. You were having a nightmare, you just kept saying 'No, Stefan' over and over."

Damon grimaced. Bad enough to have a dream like that, a dream with _hunger _he hadn't felt in so long. Worse still for her to have to see the weakness it represented. "Yeah. It was a hell of a dream. But it was just a dream."

"It didn't sound like nothing. A lot's happened in the last few days, Damon. You can't pretend this all doesn't matter. Everything that's happened with Stefan-"

"Is this the part where you comfort me, Elena? Where you clutch my sobbing head to your breast and tell me everything's going to be okay? When you tell me that good will always win and love reigns triumphant? It's bullshit, and you know it. So let's save the crying and personal growth. I'm sure we'll have call for it again soon." He leapt from the bed, heading for the door. He had to get out of here, clear his head, get a bite to eat. That dream was still too vivid, the sweet smell of Elena's blood, the beat of her heart in the moonlight, Stefan's eager, demonic face.

Damon's hand was on the doorknob when the teddy bear collided with the back of his head. He turned towards Elena, eyebrows raised incredulously.

"Run away. Lock me out. Go have your sulk and go feed on some random whoever. Keep saying you've turned that magical vampire 'switch.' That's the secret, isn't it Damon? There _is _no switch. That's really the vampire curse, not the blood and the sunlight. An eternity with nowhere to run from all those feelings you hate so much."

Damon never made a conscious decision to bridge the divide between them, yet he found himself pressed against her body, toe to toe, nose to nose. "You want to see what I feel, Elena? What I'll feel for eternity?"

It was like being drawn by a magnet to this girl, standing there in her bare feet, her hair a messy halo around her head, this fucking girl who always _saw_. No matter how hard he tried to hide, she saw.

Her eyes fluttered over his face. She opened her lips to answer, and suddenly, they were wrapped around one another, hands clutching, lips moving in desperate accord, tongues meeting in the middle.

"What the hell are you doing to her?"

Two pairs of shocked eyes, one brown, one blue, turned to see John Gilbert standing in the doorway.


	22. Chapter 22

"Get your hands off her!"

"Oh, grow up, John. My hands are on him, too," Elena retorted, her lip curling with disgust at the sight of her uncle. Father. Whatever. Damon couldn't hide his smirk as she leapt to his defense. She wasn't trying to hide what had happened, to deny it. Interesting. Very interesting.

"Didn't expect to see you back in town so soon, John. How's the hand?" Damon jerked his head towards the compression glove John wore. The man's livid face paled just a trifle, and he moved the hand behind his back.

"I hear you've taken care of the Katherine problem. I have to say, Damon, I never thought you'd have the stones to do it. Decide you were tired of being a whipped dog?"

Elena groaned. "Do you have to start the pissing match again? No, don't answer that. Of course you do. What do you want, John? I thought we made it pretty clear you aren't welcome here."

John's hard eyes softened as he looked at her. "I heard what happened—with Katherine. And with Stefan. And I hear there's a new player in town." John glanced from Elena to Damon and back again. "Elijah. Do you know what you' dealing with here?"

"I think we can handle it a little better than you can. After all, we can't just lock him in a basement and light him on fire, now can we?" Damon's words dripped venom. The temptation to exact revenge for what John had done was nearly overwhelming. Elena didn't even _like_ him, surely she wouldn't miss him if he had a little "accident."

"Stop. Both of you, stop. I can't deal with this while I'm in my pajamas. I'm going to get dressed. Go downstairs and try not to kill each other. I mean it." She glowered at them for a moment before ushering them into the hall and shutting the door.

The two men stared at each other. Damon's eyes wandered down to John's uninjured hand. Yep, there was the _deus ex machina _ring. He gave John a significant look before heading downstairs and making a beeline for the coffee pot. He was _hungry_. Damon couldn't even remember the last time he'd fed, and Elena didn't keep O-negative in the fridge. It seemed likely he'd be spending more time here in the near future, and he made a mental note to bring a few blood bags over. Elena was fairly tolerant of his diet, but he didn't think she'd let him keep hookers in the basement for a quick bite.

John sat at the kitchen table as Damon dumped heaping tablespoons of coffee into the machine. "Where's Jeremy? Where's Jenna?" Damon asked.

"Jeremy let me in, said Jenna had to go to campus for something. Then he left. Didn't want to be around me, I guess." John couldn't keep the sadness out of his eyes. Ah, family troubles. The great equalizer.

"Can't imagine why." Damon punched the button on the coffee machine, leaning against the counter, the better to keep his eye on John. He was only a human, but he was wily. And the bastard had almost killed him once—it wouldn't happen again.

"Coffee?" Elena asked hopefully, fully dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, binding her hair back into a ponytail as she entered the room. Damon wished she wouldn't. He loved her hair, that silky curtain that famed her face, made her eyes more vibrant...

"Soon," Damon assured her.

She nodded, seating herself at the table as far as possible from John. "If you came here to express concern, you should've saved the trip. We have Elijah under control."

"You can't have an Original 'under control,' Elena. It's not possible," John said. Finally, something they could all agree on. Damon never thought he'd welcome John's presence, but if the man could talk some sense into Elena, get her to run...well, Damon would just have to reconsider mounting John's head on the wall of the boarding house.

"I said we've got it, John," Elena said sharply.

John sighed, rubbing his eyes. "You don't like me. I get the picture, Elena. Really I do. But at the end of the day I'm still your fa-" John caught the outraged look on Elena's face. "We're still family. And I still have a duty to protect you. And whether you believe me or not, I take that very seriously."

The coffee maker buzzed. Damon turned his back on the little family scene, pouring two cups of coffee. He dosed one liberally with cream and three packets of sugar, sliding it to Elena, while he kept the other mug for himself, returning to lean against the counter.

"So how are you going to keep her safe? Let's cut to the punchline," Damon said.

John looked up at Damon uneasily. "I won't. I can't. I don't stack up very well against a vampire, as we've seen." He raised his hand as proof.

"Oh, I dunno, you do pretty well when they're screaming on the ground in agony and you have a gas can handy," Damon smirked.

"You're not helping," Elena said. "Go on, John."

John reached into the messenger bag he wore slung across his chest and produced a long, ornate silver dagger and a small vial of dust. Damon frowned, moving towards the able for a better look. "The hell is that?" he asked.

"The only way to kill an Original." John clutched the dagger awkwardly, a man not used to handling weapons, and clinked it against the vial. "You dip the dagger into this ash. It's from a white oak tree that has some sort of mystical significance, I'm not sure. And then you plunge it into the Original's heart."

"Where did you get this?" Elena asked. "And how do you know all this, about Elijah, about...about Stefan?" Her voice faltered at Stefan's name.

"You forget, Elena. I'm a Gilbert." He smiled. "Our family has be hunting _them_-" he nodded at Damon "for a hundred years. Something you'd do well to remember." Elena snorted. "I still have contacts in Mystic Falls and around the world when it comes to dealing with vampires. But none of that's important right now. What matters is getting rid of Elijah."

"Agreed," Damon said, reaching for the dagger and vial. John moved them out of his grasp.

"You'll only have one shot, Damon. If you screw this up, we're all dead." John swallowed hard. "What I saw up there, in Elena's room, makes me sick. Stefan was one thing, at least he could _pretend _to be human. But you're an entirely different beast, aren't you? But I know you'll keep her safe. I'm depending on you for that." He slid the items across to Damon.

Damon hefted the dagger, testing its weight in his hand. It was surprisingly light, and hummed with some deep, hidden power. Yep, he believed this thing could take out an Original. He slid the thing into the back waistband of his jeans, tucking the vial into a pocket.

"Elena, I've got to run by the boarding house, pick up a few things, run some errands. If you even _try_ to leave this house, I will have Bonnie seal you in it. Are we clear?"

She rolled her eyes extravagantly. "Crystal. But _you_ had better not go rogue and try to kill Elijah now. Come back, we need to plan this. We need to figure out what he's after before you kill him."

"Deal. Walk me out, John." Damon jerked his head towards the door, and the other man reluctantly stood. Damon clapped him on the back as they headed for the entryway.

"Don't think this is a truce between us, Johnny Boy," Damon murmured. "I owe you a little suffering. And if I find you've betrayed us with all of this, I'll have your guts for garters."

"The feeling is mutual. But for now, we're on the same side. _Her _side. So try not to fuck this up."

"A temporary cease fire, then. Let's shake on it. Oh, wait." With an ironic salute, Damon slipped out of the house. He never even noticed the sleek black car driving past, nor the familiar driver behind the wheel.

Isobel.


End file.
